


i got sunshine

by littlelansky



Category: Boardwalk Empire
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Pining, overwrought elemental metaphors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-17 18:51:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20625857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlelansky/pseuds/littlelansky
Summary: Meyer never really noticed the cold. Charlie brings heat with him wherever he goes.





	i got sunshine

**Author's Note:**

> saw a prompt along the lines of "he's like sunshine" and this mess of over-extended fire-and-ice metaphors is what came out. enjoyyy.

Meyer never really noticed the cold. He remembers enough of Grodno to know it had its seasons, but the snow is what stands out the starkest. It was his job to keep Jake safe, so any extra blankets were piled on his brother, whether Jake liked it or not—the habit followed him through the damp nights curled up in steerage, all the way to New York. Manhattan's summers could be sweltering, but the cold lingers in a way the heat never manages, drafty tenement after drafty tenement leaving their mark. Meyer doesn't mind it; after Lena he worries about Jake and Rosie and Esther and even his mother, whether they're warm enough, whether they're safe, but he never feels the chill much himself, not even when he wanders the streets after shul in December.

Yetta won't let him leave the house without at least gloves and his hat, but the scarf she drapes around his neck at the last second—just in case, and the last thing he wants is her worried about him—rests loosely on his shoulders. Manhattan after a snow storm is peaceful, moreso than any other time. The streets are choked too thick with snow for carriages or cars, and the only other people around all hurry to get out of the cold, leaving the neighborhoods still and nearly silent, any sounds muffled by the snowfall. Meyer thinks he likes the city best this way, bright and quiet and fleeting.

Charlie brings heat with him wherever he goes. The adrenaline of a fight, the way Meyer's blood raced the first time they met, it was searing. It was worse than the cold—at least that was familiar, and far more easily ignored. It's closer to an inferno, at first—he just makes Meyer so angry, picking a fight just because Meyer looks like an easy target and then following him around like he can't take care of himself? Fuck him. That's trouble Meyer doesn't need and has no interest in stoking.

Then Charlie—still Sal, then—kills for him, before they've even really spoken much, and the inferno wanes, just a little. Meyer is still wary, and the other boy is unpredictable, an unknown quantity in all his equations, but there's no more swaggering attempts at intimidation and extortion. Instead he takes Meyer seriously, backs him up when Meyer would never ask, and when they finally agree to work together, Charlie's hand is warm in Meyer's as they shake on it.

After that, the haze of heat that surrounds Charlie is more like banked coals. It flares with his temper, which he loses far more often than someone engaged in their line of work should, as far as Meyer's concerned, but he keeps his head when it matters. It still sits uncomfortably on Meyer's skin, unfamiliar compared to the chill that he's become more than accustomed to—he's learned to use it as a shield. Logic may be cold, but it's reliable. Safe. The more you keep to yourself, the less ammunition for anyone to use against you, but the heavy warmth of Charlie's arm slung around Meyer's shoulders threatens to break all that down, and break Meyer down with it.

It's stupid, Meyer knows. For the two of them to be business partners is one thing—Charlie has a way with people that Meyer never bothered to cultivate, and Meyer's tendency towards the analytical helps keep Charlie from leaping before he looks—but wanting anything more than that is foolish. Dangerous, even. The warmth that radiates off of Charlie dulls all of Meyer's edges, makes him less sharp. It makes it that much harder to stay focused and keep his mind clear, and whenever he gets a little distance, all he can think is that he should stop chasing this. But Meyer feels the cold more now, when Charlie's not around. It bites more than it ever did in Grodno, settles under his skin and slices at him when he moves. He tells himself he'll just get used to it again, that he'll stop chasing the warmth that rolls off Charlie like sunshine in the summer. Then he winds up right back in Charlie's orbit, pushing back the cold for an afternoon again, right back where he started.

Sometimes Meyer thinks Charlie feels it too. When he leans too close, rests his arm across Meyer's shoulder for a little too long, pulls away a little too slowly. The little spark of hope it kindles in Meyer's chest is the worst part. It lingers long after Charlie's leaned away, no matter how hard Meyer tries to extinguish it. It's ridiculous and Meyer knows it will only be worse the longer he doesn't manage to get the feeling under control—he's certainly not the only one drawn to Charlie's intensity (something he tries not to think about too often) but no one seeks out the cold. Why would Charlie?

But he does. At least that's what it feels like, when he hangs around after they're done discussing business. When he shows up on Meyer's fire escape on an already-chilly October evening. When he hands Meyer an already-lit cigarette. It makes the little spark in Meyer's chest flare up every time it happens, until it's an ember all on its own.

And when, after years of waiting, Charlie finally leans down and kisses him, Meyer melts.

**Author's Note:**

> i live for comments, or come talk to me about gangsters in love on [tumblr!](http://meyerlansky.tumblr.com/)


End file.
